


At Least It’s Not Made from Curtains

by Joylee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU Historical, Bridesmaid's blues, F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa (Once Upon a Time), Rumbelle Secret Santa 2020, background Jefferson/Priscilla, background Snowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joylee/pseuds/Joylee
Summary: The men of Storybrooke are coming back from World War II.  Belle is not sure this is a good thing.  On top of the other problems landing on her shoulders she has to make a fancy bridesmaid gown and she can’t sew.  Luckily the new tailor in town can help her with that at least.  But will her growing acquaintance with him lead to more complications?
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	At Least It’s Not Made from Curtains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eilinelithil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilinelithil/gifts).



> The French here is strictly courtesy of Google Translate. Any corrections from an actual French speaker would be appreciated

Belle took a fortifying sip of tea as she looked at the pile of material Aurora Briar had given her. It was actually rather pretty. The soft gold of a clear winter sunset. Would that the same could be said for the antique pattern that accompanied it. 

It was supposed to be an authentic reproduction of an antebellum gown. Complete with a fashion plate to help them make bridesmaid dresses for Rory’s wedding. Her mother, Rose, had waxed poetic about how “We’re going to celebrate not only Phillip and Rory entering into holy matrimony, but the return of all our brave soldiers by recreating the beauty and gentility of a bygone era. It will be wonderful! Just like Gone With the Wind.”

Belle had some doubts. Make that a _lot_ of doubts. Setting aside Mrs. Briar's dubious grasp of history, only the upper classes of Mid-Victorians had much beauty or gentility, she doubted any of the men who were returning from the war were going to care what sort of dresses Rory’s bridesmaids wore. She also doubted that she was going to be able to turn this pile of cloth into anything resembling that fashion plate. Or that she would look particularly good in it. 

Her fellow bridesmaids seemed mostly prepared to go along with the plans though. Mary Margaret had tactfully pointed out. “Not all of the men are home yet. I mean, yes, David and Phillip got to come home, but some of them, like Belle’s Gaston are still with the occupation forces in Germany.”

“It’s only a matter of time before they’re back.” Mrs. Briar brushed this aside. “We made a point of setting the wedding date for Gaston’s leave when he rotates home.”

“Gaston’s coming home?” Belle had a sinking feeling.

“You didn’t know?” Rory looked horrified. “Oh, dear, we’ve ruined his surprise.”

“Not being overly fond of surprises, I’m just as glad you did.” Belle asked. “When is he coming?”

“Not until the day before the wedding.” Rory assured her. “You’ve got plenty of time to get ready for him. Just think we’ll be planning your wedding next! Won’t that be wonderful?”

“Yeah, wonderful.” Rory in her soon to be wedded bliss missed the dry note in Belle’s voice.

At least the immediate problem of making this dress let her put off thinking about Gaston.

Might as well get on with it.

Opening the instruction sheet she was met with a picture that looked like a navigation chart and the written instruction -- ‘First flatline main bodice pieces’.

She folded it back up and stuffed it into the envelope.

This was going to be a disaster.

Sighing, she considered her options. They were limited. All of the friends that she would even have considered imposing on to make this dress for her were either already stuck making one or had sewing skills as limited as her own. Merida’s mother could probably do it. Eilnor DunBroch seemed capable of just about anything, but she was running the family farm, raising ten year old triplets and taking care of Merida’s father who had returned from the war with what was politely referred to as ‘problems’.

He clearly was not alone although most of the other returning veterans seemed to cope better. Or at least hide it better. She had hosted Dr. Hopper at the library for a talk on Combat Stress Reaction in the hope that a better understanding of the problem by the men, and their families, might encourage some of them to at least talk to Archie..

The event had been sparsely attended. She had been somewhat surprised when David Nolan turned up along with Jefferson Hatter, their wives, and Mr. Gold with his son Neal.

David had admitted a little shame faced that, “Sarge made me come. He said that he’d seen way too many men come to grief not facing up to the last war and he wasn’t going to watch good men go down a second time.” 

David and Jefferson had served together and been captured together in Italy. Jefferson had been badly wounded. He wore colorful cravats to hide the injuries to his neck and spoke only in whispers. The two of them ended up in the same POW camp where they met Gold, presumably the ‘Sarge’ in question.

When the POWs were liberated, David had convinced Jefferson and Gold, who had made plans to go into business together, into setting up shop in Storybrooke.

Which might just prove to be Belle’s salvation. She had no idea how ‘Hatter and Gold, Fashions and Bespoke Tailoring for Discerning Men and Women’ managed to find enough customers in Storybrooke to stay in business, but presumably they would be able to make sense of this pattern.

Hopefully without putting to large a dent in her savings.

A cheerful bell announced her arrival at Hatter and Gold. Belle took hearing her namesake as a good omen.

Mr. Gold emerged from the backroom. He had been wounded in the war and walked with a limp. He managed to make the cane he used into a fashion accessory and his manner suggested that he was graciously deigning to serve you. “Miss French, how may I help you today?”

“I need a dress made and I can’t sew.” Belle dumped the bundle onto the counter. “I mean I can hem a skirt and sew on a button. But this is way above my skill level. I was wondering if you could make it for me?”

“You have an actual pattern you wish to have copied?” He held out his hand. “It would be our pleasure.”

“Don’t be so sure.” She muttered, handing over the envelope.

Mr. Gold blinked at the ‘pattern’ she handed over. “Is this from a Victorian fashion plate?”

“It’s supposed to be American antebellum, but I imagine fashions were probably the same on both sides of the pond, don’t you think?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had a reason to think about it.” Gold looked at the picture, at the bundle of fabric and notions and up and down her frame. “How much material do you have?”

“Nine yards. Or so I was told. I didn’t measure it”

“That might be enough.” He sounded dubious. “We’ll have to fake the tiers. Which would probably be a good idea anyway. Three layers of fabric in a skirt that large would be too heavy for you to walk in. And even with only one layer the weight of the skirt will be such that you’ll need an actual hoop to hold it out like that. Which will add even more weight to the gown.” 

He paused. “Are you certain this is what you want? This… style may not be terribly flattering for a woman as petite as you are. With that fabric we could do up a wrapped gown with a bolero jacket that would have a lovely drape and be very complimentary to your figure. Might even have enough material left for a nice blouse or tea dress. Or if it’s fancy dress we could do something from the Regency. The simpler lines of that period would be very becoming for you and you could go as Elizabeth Bennett.”

Those both sounded lovely. Unfortunately...“Yeah, I already figured out that this dress will make me look as round as I am tall. But I’m bridesmaid number five and Rory’s mother is dead set on a Gone with the Wind theme. So I’m stuck with it. And may I say I’m very impressed that you know who Elizabeth Bennett is and also by how diplomatically you phrased that?”

“My Aunties, who taught me the trade, were fond of Jane Austen. They also taught me that talking customers out of bad ideas is a large part of our work.” Gold grinned. It changed him from impassive tailor to whimsical little boy.

A rather adorable one. 

Down girl. You’re not supposed to ogle other men. You have an ‘understanding’ with Gaston.

Or at least he had an understanding. Belle had given in to his advances in the whirlwind of the early days of the war and him being shipped off. But the longer he was gone the more certain Belle became that she did not want to spend her life with a man who never opened a book and responded to her lengthy letters, when he bothered to respond at all, with five sentences frequently about the weather. 

But she also was not about to ‘Dear John’ a serving soldier. And now it looked like she would have to wait to break things off until after Rory’s wedding. 

The dignified tailor returned quickly although the smile looked considerably more natural. “This is for the Briar Prince wedding? I believe the announcement in the paper said it was to be held on Valentine's Day? May I ask who is making the other bridesmaids’s dresses?”

“Looking for additional business?”

“Always.” Gold grinned again. “I’m a merchant, Dearie. The more custom I can get through the door the better.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck.” Belle had to tell him. “Mary Margaret is making her own although I get the impression she’s a little intimidated by the prospect. Granny is making Ruby’s, and is letting it be known that she’s not best pleased about this pattern Mrs. Briar chose. Mulan is going to try and get her grandmother to help her although she’s afraid that Mrs. Fa’s won't like the pattern any more than Granny.”

“We contract with Mrs. Fa to do some of our fancy embroidery and beadwork. The sewing won’t be an issue for her. What she thinks of the style will be another matter. Knowing Mrs. Fa we shall all soon be aware of it.” Gold told her.

“I don’t know what Anastasia plans to do. I got the impression she has a dressmaker she goes to in New York.” Belle finished.

“Yes, I recognized the designer of that red suit she wears to church. Although I wouldn’t myself refer to Claire McCardell as a ‘dressmaker’. Her fall line took New York by storm.” Gold said. “I have no doubt Mrs. Scarlett’s bridesmaid’s gown will be beautifully made as her other clothing.

“We shall just have to see to it that your gown is a match for it.” He took a bound calendar out from under the counter. “Are you available the day after tomorrow to come in to be measured?”

“Couldn’t we do it now? It’s hard for me to get away during the day.”

“Mrs. Hatter measures our lady customers and I’m afraid she only works during school hours.” Gold tapped a pencil against the calendar. “Perhaps during your lunch break?”

Belle sighed. “This wedding keeps getting more inconvenient. Well, it won’t hurt for me to skip a few meals between now and then.” 

“We can at least provide tea and biscuits to keep your strength up.” Gold promised.

The door had not even finished closing when his partners emerged from the workroom in the back both grinning widely. Gold frowned. “You two done lurking in the back? There’s stock to put out.”

Jefferson signed. **Did not want to interrupt your flirting**.

“I wasna’ flirting.” Gold growled.

Clasping his hands next to his cheek, Jefferson whispered, “The lines would be so becoming to your figure.”

Priscilla choked back a laugh.

“So glad the two of you find proper treatment of our clientele amusing.” Gold harrumphed. “Get on with you then. That stock is not going to arrange itself.” 

The next evening found Jefferson and David Nolan at Gold’s house for a night of cards. Boy’s night had developed from Priscilla and Mary Margaret deciding that their husbands deserved a night out on a regular basis. Since neither they nor Gold particularly cared for Storybrooke’s somewhat raunchy selection of bars, they had fallen into rotating between their houses for a night of beer and gin rummy. Gin rummy because Golf refused to take the other men’s money at poker and beer because David was a total lightweight when it came to alcohol. Gold served a variety of sandwiches, pickles and bought a couple of growlers of Guinness when it was his night to host. 

“Where’s Neal?” David asked as he dealt the hand.

“He filled a plate with the snacks and retreated to his room.” Gold sighed as he arranged his cards. “I did learn that he likes the spicy brown mustard. Which is about the most conversation I’ve had from him this week.”

“Yeah, teenagers are like that.” David sympathized. “Emma didn’t talk to me for days when I wouldn’t let her go to some party.”

“He’s feeling ill used.” Gold discarded. “With some justification. I missed nearly a third of his life. Then I swept in and dragged him away from the Darlings, who had provided him with a stable loving home when neither his mother or I could.”

David and Jefferson exchanged glances. Gold’s ex-wife was a subject about whom they shared an opinion and that opinion was highly unfavorable. She had dumped her child on the kindly parents of one of his schoolmates to tour with the USO not long after Gold had been drafted. There she had met a lover. She served divorce papers on Gold while he was a POW. To cap it off she had sold the clothing factory Gold had built up from scratch and made off with the bulk of the proceeds. 

The only upside to the whole affair was that this had angered Gold’s attorney enough that he had stepped in and fought over what was left even though Gold was not in a position to pay his retainer. Getting Gold custody of Neal and what was left of the remaining assets.

These were sufficient even after paying the lawyer to buy the old Queen Anne they were currently playing cards in, provide start-up capital for Hatter and Gold and left Gold with a small nest egg. This he had used to back Leroy in a small housing development. David and Mary Margaret had been their first customer. The Nolans were now happily ensconced in their new home, and Gold and Leroy were ramping up to buy land for a second development.

“So what's new in the clothing world?” David asked, picking up a card.

“We’re looking at expanding our formal wear rentals. If we could get the Prince boy to use us it would go a long way toward establishing us in the market.” Gold said.

 **And Gold would get more chances to hang around the lovely Belle if we worked the wedding**. Jefferson signed.

“Belle?” David asked dubiously.

 **He’s sweet on her**. Jefferson nodded 

“She’s a kind, bright and lovely woman.” Gold gave up on denying it. “And yes, I know she’s twenty years younger than I am and there is no reason for her to look twice at a crippled man whose already had one failed marriage, but there’s also no reason I can’t enjoy a friendship with her.”

“She’s kinda engaged to Gaston LeGume.” David said.

“She’s no wearing a ring.” Gold frowned.

David shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, it was apparently a spur of the moment thing just before we all shipped out. There may not have been time.”

“And he hasn’t had time to correct that in the five years since?” Gold continued frowning. “I don’t think anyone including the lady should feel too bound by that loose an arrangement.”

Looking even more uncomfortable, David lowered his voice. “Yeah, but they uhm, _anticipated_ the wedding night, before he shipped out.”

“He _told_ you that?!” Jefferson’s whisper squeaked slightly. Then he signed. **Who says that kind of thing about the woman they’re going to marry?**

“Not the kind of man who should be married to a woman like Belle, that’s for damn sure.” Gold’s frown turned stormy. 

“Maybe, but it does kind of commit him to actually following through.” David said.

Gold snorted. “Lad, even you’ve seen enough of the world to know _that_ isn’t true. And if he hasn’t committed in the last five years I wouldn’t count on him doing it now.”

“Makes things awkward for Belle though.” David was holding to his position. “I mean, a man expects his bride to be virginal.”

Gold actually laughed at this. Jefferson patted David’s shoulder. David, going a bit red, asked, “Well wouldn’t it bother you if your wife had _known_ another man?”

Jefferson shrugged and shook his head.

“The ones that bothered me were the ones she took up with after I married her.” Gold said dryly. 

Belle showed up for her appointment to be measured and was ushered into a small room sandwiched between the front with the retail shop and the back where the workroom was. It was divided into an outer area with mirrors, a few chairs, and a platform for the client to stand on for fittings and a curtained area with yet another platform where Mrs. Hatter ushered her. “I need you to remove your clothing please. You can keep the panties, but I need to measure your cup size, so the bra will need to go as well, Miss French.”

That explained why they had Mrs. Hatter measure the female customers. “If you’re going to see me in nothing but panties, I really think we should be on a first name basis. I’m Belle.”

“Priscilla.” The other woman smiled. “Shall I get you a cup of tea while you’re undressing? We have some lovely little meat pies if you’re hungry. Gold said you were missing your lunch hour.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” 

The pies were homemade. When Belle complimented her, Priscillla told her, “They’re Gold’s not mine. I don’t have anywhere near that fine a hand at pastry.”

“Well, pass on my compliment to him then.”

“You’ll have a chance to tell him yourself. He’s worked up some designs to show you when we’re done here.” Priscilla made some notes of some of the measurements.

“Why do you need such precise measurements of my bust line?” Belle asked.

“Gold plans on building the stays and cups directly into the bodice.” Priscilla continued with her measuring. “You’re not going to find a commercially made merry widow that will work under that bodice and having one made that will work will cost about half of what we’re charging you to make the dress. Don’t worry. Nobody will be able to tell looking at you that there isn’t anything under the dress.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Belle had not even considered the problem of underwear.

“Not me. I’m strictly a seamstress. Gold is the designer. I’d have no idea how to put something like that together.” Priscilla lowered her voice slightly as though she was planning to reveal some secrets. “He was raised by a couple of spinster dressmakers. They were old school hard core modistes. Trained to cut a fitted bodice, probably with a bustle skirt, using only the measurements of the client. After they taught him everything they could, they apprenticed him to a tailor who had been trained on Savile Row. The plan apparently was they were going to start a design house when he finished his apprenticeship. But then the last war came along. Gold was drafted as soon as he turned eighteen. The Aunties died during the Influenza epidemic. Gold decided Glasgow had nothing left to offer him and came to New York. Made a small name for himself in the garment district, until our war came along and he got drafted again.”

Belle did the math. If he was old enough for the draft in the First World War and young enough for the draft in the Second, he was now in his late forties. Roughly twenty years older than she was. She did not mind an older man. 

“Which was good for us.” Priscilla went on. “I’m pretty sure that without Gold to look after him, Jeff would never have survived being in that POW camp. Not only did Gold work out a deal to trade tailoring for additional food for their barracks, when the doctors told Jeff he might never get his voice back, Angus organized sign language lessons for Jeff in the stalag. And made the other men in the barracks learn it too so he could communicate with them while his throat healed.

“Gold’s not the most sociable fellow, but he takes care of those he thinks of as family.” Priscilla was down to measuring her inseam.

It finally dawned on Belle that Priscilla was giving her a rundown of Gold’s background with an eye to setting them up. She wondered if this was Priscilla’s own idea or if Gold had expressed an interest.

Then shouting was heard from the back. A young man’s voice, “Don’t tell me that! You were gone for five years!”

A Scotish voice replied. “It wasn’t my choice! Blame fucking Hitler!”

Then a door slammed. 

Priscilla winced. “You can get dressed now. I’ll tell Gold you’re ready.”

The impassive tailor was looking a bit strained. He showed her some sketches that while clearly the same gown as shown on the fashion plate looked more elegant and less likely to engulf her.

“I’m going to rely on your judgment.” She told him. “Clearly you know more about this than I do.” 

“Very good. We’ll let you know when the dress is ready for fitting.” 

“I don’t mean to intrude. Well, actually I do, but I couldn’t help overhearing your argument with Neal.” She told him.

Gold sighed. “I’m not really who he’s angry with. He was supposed to spend the Christmas vac with his mother, but she has a chance to go to Cuba with her new husband’s band and she canceled on him. I’m just the convenient one to shout at.”

“Then my suggestion is even more appropriate.” She went on. “My mother died when I was thirteen. I was angry with the world and took it out on my poor father. After a couple of years of my behaving like a total witch, a family friend sat us down across the kitchen table and made us talk it out. I won’t say it solved everything, but we managed to patch together a decent relationship after that. He’s sixteen, right? He’s not a child any longer. Maybe you should think of him as more like one of the young men you commanded in the war.”

“Most of them seemed like children to me.” Gold smiled slightly. “But thank you, it certainly couldn’t hurt.”

About a week later, Gold stopped in at the library just before noon. “Your dress is ready for a fitting. When would you like to come by?”

“Can you show me now.” Belle grabbed up her things. “I’ve been dreading this and I’d just as soon get it over as soon as possible.”

The dress needed a few additional tucks, but it was a very good fit. Twirling on the platform in front of the mirrors, Belle had to ask, “What did you _do_? This not only looks good but it looks good on me. And it still looks like the pattern.”

“Actually we altered the pattern a little.” Gold looked very pleased with himself. “We dropped the waist slightly to give you the illusion of a little more height and made the angle of the skirt more obtuse to get the width with a proportionally shorter skirt. I found a photo of Queen Victoria where her dressmaker had done that and we copied it. She was about your height.”

“God save the Queen then, but you’re still a genius to think of it.” 

“Papa, can I come in?” Came a voice behind the door that Belle had last heard screaming at Gold.

“Yes, what do you need, Neal?” Gold called to him.

The young man came in. He was wearing the slacks and sweater of the Storybrooke Academy and carrying a box of ties. “That turned out really pretty. Although I still think that skirt is way too big.”

Gold closed his eyes and sighed. “Criticizing a client’s choice of choice of style is not the best way to gain custom, Neal.”

“Except in this case I agree with Neal.” Belle giggled.

Who gave his father the ‘see’ look that only a teenager could manage. 

Gold asked again. “What did you need, Neal.”

“Oh, you told me to arrange the ties by color, but what do I do with the stripes.” Neal held up a green and brown striped tie.

“Pick what you think is the dominant color and put it next to that.” Gold told him.

“How do I tell what color is dominant?” 

“It’s the one that stands out the most.”

Neal looked unconvinced but took his box of ties off to finish arranging.

“You two seem to have found some common ground.” Belle commented.

“Yes, I’ve a lot to thank you for.” Gold fiddled with the tape measure draped around his neck. “We had a long talk and cleared some of the air. Everything is far from fixed, but you were right part of the problem was me treating him like a child. So, now I’m going to give him more responsibility in exchange for more freedom. He’s working here part time now. He’s still going on to University, but it won’t hurt him to learn some of the trade.” 

“Certainly not.” Belle told him. “I worked in my father’s flower store all the way through college. You need a centerpiece designed? I’m your girl.”

January dumped the usual amount of snow on Storybrooke. Belle was kept busy helping Anastasia with preparations for Rory’s bridal shower. 

“Although why we ended up with the job I’ve no idea.” Anastasia commented as they put up decorations in Granny’s banquet room. ”It’s not like either of us know her that well. We’re in the wedding party because Will and Gaston are mates of Phillip’s.”

Anastasia despite, or possibly because of, her clearly upper class English origins spoke her mind in a manner Belle rather envied. Practically the first thing Anastasia had said to her had been, “Now, darling, I know that you and Will were together for a while, and I do hope that won’t make things difficult between us. I certainly don’t mind and from Will has told me you sound like a woman of uncommon sense. Much better for us all to be friends, don’t you think?”

Belle could only agree. Much to the confusion of the rest of Storybrooke.

So Belle responded directly to the comment rather than making excuses that they were indeed friends of Rory’s. “Granny is short handed so Ruby is working double shifts. Mary Margaret hasn’t been feeling well and Mulan flat out refused.” 

She then held up the pennant she was hanging. “Are these flags even remotely accurate to the American Civil War?”

“I’ve no idea, darling.” Anastisia was putting bunting around the edge of the refreshment table. “If Mrs. Briar has an issue with them, she shouldn’t have left it to a Brit and an Aussie to decorate for a Gone With the Wind themed party. The only thing I know about the American Civil War is that Prince Albert kept us out of it because he was an abolitionist thus making it the only major conflict of the 19th century I don’t have an ancestor that fought in.”

This was the certainly the most eclectic bridal shower Belle had ever seen. The refreshments Granny put out looked to Belle’s eye decidedly High Tea, but maybe antebellum ladies mimicked their British cousins.

No one else seemed to be questioning either the decor or the food so Belle just went with it. It helped that Anastasia insisted on brewing the tea. When Belle complimented her on it, she dropped her voice to a whisper for Belle’s ears only. “I long since learned that if I want a decent cuppa in this town I have to make it myself. I mean really, what’s so hard about steeping some tea leaves?”

“I know.” Belle whispered back. “The only place in town that serves a decent cuppa is Hatter and Gold’s. Trust a Scotsman to know his tea.”

“Really?” Anastasia grinned. “I’m going to have to order a new frock from them to check out your Mr. Gold.”

“He’s hardly my Mr. Gold.” Belle objected.

“Well, you might want to think about changing that.” Anastasia nodded knowingly. “If you don’t mind my saying it, between being a successful tailor and a partner in the housing development he’s invested in with Leroy, he’s definitely a step up from a fellow who’s still only a Lieutenant after five years in the army,”

“Will was only a Captain.” Belle pointed out.

“True, darling.” Anastasia laughed. “But Will is my second. My first left me well enough off that I could afford to pick a second for fun.”

Just then Mary Margaret rushed past them toward the Ladies room. Belle put down her cup. “That’s the second time she’s run off. I’d better check on her.” 

Entering the Ladies, Belle was greeted by the sound of retching. Stepping out she grabbed a towel and a glass for water and handed both to Mary Margaret when the woman finally emerged from the stall.

“Are you still ill? Do you want me to take you home?” Belle asked.

Wiping her face with the towel, Mary Margaret sighed. “No. I need to talk to Rory. I don’t think I’ll be able to be in the wedding. With Emma I was sick for months.”

Belle got to be the first of the party to congratulate Mary Margaret on her news. Even Rory was pleased though a touch dismayed. “I did so want you to be my matron of honor.”

“What are we going to do though?” Mrs. Briar worried. “Now we’re short a bridesmaid. Who can we pair with David on short notice? Or get a dress made to fit?”

Emma was hovering next to her mother with the glass of water. Belle suggested. “Perhaps Emma could do it? I’m sure David would be happy to have her as a partner.”

“I guess.” Emma agreed. “But Mom’s dress won’t fit me.”

“And I’m not going to be able to remake it.” Mary Margaret declared. “Not with morning sickness like this.”

“I imagine Hatter and Gold could do it.” Belle looked around for Priscilla, who had been hanging on the edge of the party the whole time. Clearly reluctant to push herself forward among a group of people who had known each other for years.

But this was her area of expertise. “Certainly. Gold is the best cutter I’ve ever seen. We can easily have it resized in a week.” She declared.

“Won’t that be expensive?” Mary Margaret looked at Mrs. Briar, no doubt hoping she would offer to pay.

Priscila made a brushing motion. “David was Gold’s second in the camp and took care of Jeff when he was recovering. You’re family. If David insists on paying us, you can do it on time.”

Emma did not want to go to the tailor shop by herself. Belle volunteered to take her since Mary Margaret’s morning sickness was getting worse.

That she might get to see Gold some more had nothing to do with it, she told herself firmly.

“Will I have to undress in front of them?” Emma asked nervously.

“Mrs. Hatter will need to measure you. But you'll wear the dress in front of Mr. Gold.” Belle assured her.

Priscilla was used to dealing with nervous first time customers. Emma seemed comfortable enough with her that Belle slipped out for a cup of tea. She found Gold in the back room frowning over Mary Margaret’s dress spread out on the work table.

“Is there going to be a problem resizing it to fit Emma?” She asked, There was, as usual, a pot of tea still warm on the counter. She helped herself.

“If, as I’m assuming, the girl is a smaller size then her mother we should be able to make it work.” Gold said. “Taking this apart is going to be a nightmare though. Mary Margaret used some… imaginative construction techniques.”

Even Belle could tell that Mary Margaret’s dress differed from the fashion plate by quite a lot. “Is that going to increase the cost? With a new baby coming, Mary Margaret was worried about that.”

“Not for David’s daughter.” Gold glanced her way with a slight grin. “David’s insisting on paying us. But we convinced him that resizing the dress would take less time than making yours did so the cost would be less.”

That did not sound right. “Isn’t it going to be harder to unpick that dress and remake it than to just make one from scratch?”

“Fortunately David knows next to nothing about tailoring so he wasn’t able to figure that out.” Gold’s grin widened. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone.”

“My lips are sealed.” Belle promised.

Neal came in carrying a box of spools of thread just then and started loading them on a rack. Looking over at the dress on the table he looked confused. “What happened to Miss Belle’s dress? It used to be pretty.”

“This one is Mary Margaret’s.” Gold told him. “We’re going to remake it for her daughter.”

“For Emma?” This caught Neal’s interest. “You’re going to fix it right? Emma should have a pretty dress.”

“We’ll do our best.” Gold added in an off hand manner. “Priscilla’s measuring her now. They should be finished in twenty minutes or so, if you want to take a break around then.”

“Okay.” Neal finished with the thread and dashed off.

Gold turned to her. “Would you like to look through our spring pattern books? In case you were thinking of getting a new suit?”

“Or we could just have a cup of tea and chat.” Belle suggested. “I’m happy to give the kids an opportunity to get better acquainted.”

“Thanks.” Gold pulled a stool over and sat down. “The only issue I have with the Academy is that it’s all boys. And he’s not the sort of lad to put himself forward with girls. If he and Emma get better acquainted maybe he’ll get the chance to broaden his circle of friends.”

She and Gold were deep in a conversation about their recent reads, when Neal came back into the work room. “Pops, is it okay if I take off early? I’ll make up the time tomorrow.”

“I suppose.” Gold told him. 

“Great!” Neal went on. “And I may not be home for dinner. Emma and I are going to Granny’s and we may get burgers.”

Gold blinked and then smiled. “That’s fine. Do you have enough money?”

“I’ve got my pay from last week.” 

“Take another fiver.” Gold pulled out his wallet and handed the boy a bill. “A gentleman always pays when he dines with a lady.”

After the boy left. Belle had to tease. “Your plan seems to be working better than you expected.”

“Aye.” Gold allowed. “I need to remember the lad is sixteen now. His interest in girls is extending beyond just friendship.

“I hope David is okay with this.” He added. “He didn’t let her go to some party not too long ago. And that sounded suspiciously like a date.” 

“A daytime trip to Granny’s will be okay.” Belle was able to tell him. “Mary Margaret is trying to ease him into Emma being a teenager. I suspect there will be a very early curfew if they want to go out in the evening though.”

Belle took Emma to her second fitting as well. The girl had gotten over a lot of her nervousness and chatted happily with Belle as they walked over. “Do you think Neal will be there again? He said he only works for his father part time,” She asked a little shyly.

“Very likely.” Belle restrained her grin. “I’m sure Gold will have mentioned you were coming in.” 

Gold had not just resized the gown, but had clearly remade it nearly from scratch. It was now a perfect match of Belle’s. And fit Emma as though it had been made for her from the beginning. 

Only the hemming was left. Gold had Emma up on the platform in fitting room as he pinned it up.

“Hey, Pops, where do you want…” Neal trailed off as he caught sight of Emma in all her finery. “Wow, you look _fantastic_!”

“Thanks.” Emma blushed a little but smiled. “Your Dad did a wonderful job on the dress. It’s way nicer than the way Mom had done it.”

“Thank you.” Gold took over from a speechless Neal. “A dress is only lovely as the wearer.”

By the time Belle and Emma left the shop Emma and Neal had arranged to see a movie together the following Saturday. 

“A matinee.” Emma sighed. “I gotta talk Dad into letting me go out in the evening. Do you think it will help that it’s with Neal? Dad really admires Sargeant Gold.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Belle allowed. Personally she would have been content with even an afternoon tea invitation. Apparently Neal was not the only Gold reluctant to put themselves forward with girls.

Or maybe Gold had heard about her ‘understanding’ with Gaston and the whole male honor code thing was getting in the way. Maybe having Gaston finally come home so she could take care of that was not such a bad thing after all.

The afternoon of the wedding rehearsal Mr. and Mrs. LeGume drove to the rail station in Castle Rock to pick up Gaston. Belle had pointedly not been invited to go with them, which was fine with her. Gaston’s mother had never made a secret that she felt her son could do better than a librarian.

Although possibly Mrs. LeGume had realized from the beginning that she and Gaston really didn’t suit.

The minister had reviewed the ceremony out of order, taking the parts that they did not need the groomsmen for first. Presumably so he did not have to spend the whole night on the rehearsal.

But they had gone over everything they could without Gaston. People were milling about chatting. Belle wondered what the delay was. Castle Rock was only half an hour away. Gold and the Hatters were laying out the men’s formal wear in their dressing room. Gold had told her “We’ll be here for the actual wedding as well. Just in case of any clothing malfunctions. It never ceases to amaze me how many men can’t figure out how to manage what is nothing more than a suit with a slightly different cut.

“And Priscilla will be on hand to take care of anything on the ladies side.”

Finally Mrs. LeGume came in carrying the casserole she had bought for the rehearsal dinner potluck that was setting up in the church social hall and looking very angry. 

“This is all your fault.” She hissed at Belle as she strode passed. 

“What is?” Belle kept her voice down.

“If you’d have married him before he left this wouldn’t have happened.” She turned and marched off to the social hall.

“But he never asked me.” Belle declared to her retreating back. What was with this sudden change of mind from Mrs. LeGume? 

Taking a deep breath, Belle went over to greet Gaston. Only to find him shepherding in a distressed looking blonde woman.

Who had a toddler on her hip.

“Oh, uhn, hi, Belle.” Gaston looked very uncomfortable. “This is my wife, Claudette. Claude, this is the friend who writes me with the news from home, Belle French.”

“Your _wife_?” Belle tried to take in the introduction. 

This was incredibly good news, but it would be the height of ill manners to show how she really felt.

Claudette was eyeing Belle cautiously. She probably had nor really bought Gaston’s story about his ‘friend’ writing to him. “Comment allez-vous, mademoiselle.”

“Ravi de vous rencontrer, Mme LeGume.” Belle told her with complete honesty. “Bienvenue à Storybrooke.”

Watching from the door to the men’s dressing room, Jefferson signed to Gold. **That seems to have put paid to the understanding with Gaston.**

**A couple of years ago judging by the age of that baby.** Gold signed back.

David frowned at them and made a cutting motion.

 **Not like anybody but the three of us and Priscila sign.** Gold responded. Then he addressed the party. “It would be helpful if we could check the fit of Mr. LeGume’s suit before the rehearsal continues. In case we need to make any alterations.”

Gaston was sent into the dressing room with Priscilla to wait for him to change so she could check the fit. Granny, who could get by in French from some time spent in Canada, took Claudette off to the social hall to find some “nourriture” for the baby.

Gold, experienced at recognizing a client about to have hysterics, headed over to where the Mrs. Briar and several members of the wedding party had congregated. 

“We can’t pair Belle with Gaston now. Not with him married to someone else.” Turning to Gold and Jeferson Mrs. Briar demanded, “Can you refit Belle’s dress to what’s her name? Claudette? Like you did with Mary Margaret’s to fit Emma?”

“Mother!” Rory was aghast, “You can’t just ask Belle to give up her place in the wedding.”

“I’m sure she won’t want to be in the wedding now.” Rose brushed aside the objection. “Think how embarrassing it will be for her.”

“ _Belle’s_ not the one who should be embarrassed.” Muttered Gold. Jefferson jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

Turning back to the tailors, Rose demanded. “Well can you?”

Jefferson turned a questioning look to Gold. Who said, in his politely deferential tone. “Certainly not without additional fabric and not in less than twenty-four hours. Mrs. LeGume has at least four inches and two dress sizes on Belle. You can’t just make a dress _bigger_. With Emma we were cutting the dress down and even then it was a several days project.”

“Lots of tailcoats.” Jefferson put in softly.

“As Mr. Hatter points out, we could easily provide formal wear for a different _usher_.” Gold continued smoothly. “To replace Mr. LeGume.”

“Gaston has been Phillip’s friend since grade school. And he came all the way from France to be in the wedding. We can’t ask him to step aside.” Mrs. Briar practically wailed.

While Belle would have been perfectly happy to have an out from the farce this wedding was turning into, she did not want to cause unpleasantness for Rory. This was going to be one of those times when she wondered if she was too considerate for her own good. “I don’t mind being in the wedding party with Gaston.”

“But you’re right. It would be awkward for Mrs. LeGume to have to watch her husband be paired with Belle.” Gold came back with. “The best thing would be to switch out the pairings.”

“Unlike Mrs. LeGume, I don’t see anything awkward in my husband remaining friends with someone he once dated.” Anastasia put in. “Pair me with Gaston and put Will and Belle together.” 

Belle was more than a little surprised when the rest of the wedding went off without a hitch. There was a bad moment when Gaston referred to Mulan as “the little Jap” but Anastasia hissed something at him and he shut up.

The bouquets of white and yellow roses were a bit unfortunate. In the language of flowers they stood from innocent friendship, but if anyone besides Belle knew that they kept quiet about it too.

Sitting at the reception with a glass of Champagne, Belle watched the dancing. Which included Neal in an extremely well tailored double breasted black wool suit leading Emma in a two step. From the amount of concentration they were showing, it didn’t look like either of them was too sure of what they were doing.

Gold came up behind her. “If you’re drowning your sorrows, Neal and I will make sure you get home safely.” He offered.

“Are you kidding?” Belle held up her Champagne cocktail. “This is celebratory. I’d been dreading Gaston coming home. I’d made up my mind to break it off with him and I was afraid he would make a fuss. You know how Storybrooke is. Everybody would have an opinion and most of them would assume the worst. Better a jilted woman than the hussy who wronged the returning war hero. Mulan’s already told me I dodged a bullet. By this time next week most of the town will sympathize with me.”

She considered. “I’m going to have to befriend poor Claudette. Otherwise she’s going to end up ostracized, and really I owe her for getting me out of a sticky situation.”

“They're not going to be in town that long.” Gold told her. “She told Priscila when she came in for a dress for the wedding that Gaston plans to stay in the Army and they’re moving to Texas next month.”

“Even better. No one can complain that I’m moving on too fast if he’s halfway across the country.” Belle downed the last of her drink.

“That’s the spirit.” Gold told her. “Do you have any plans about how you will move on?”

“Some.” Belle decided to be brave even if she did not feel brave. “If you were to invite me out for a meal I’d be happy to share them.”

Gold blinked. Then his whimsical smile came out. “Perhaps you would care to join me for hamburgers at Granny’s Friday night? I have it on good authority that it’s the place to take a young lady.”

“I’d be delighted.”

**Author's Note:**

> The fashion plate the bridesmaid dresses are based on. https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo-godeys-ladys-book-1860-color-fashion-plates-usa-civil-war-era-fashion-82982817.html


End file.
